


‘cause I kept tryin’ to remember you.

by particularlyexistence



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Cuddles, Fluff, M/M, Post Captain America: The Winter Soldier, SO FLUFFY, at all, bucky barnes is trying to remember, literally no angst, steve rogers can't deal, they dont even actually kiss, this is me coping with the fact that I don't get civil war until friday
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-02
Updated: 2016-05-02
Packaged: 2018-06-05 20:26:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6722086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/particularlyexistence/pseuds/particularlyexistence
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Steve hummed in response and looked over at him. Bucky shifted onto his side, flesh hand reaching out to rest on Steve’s wrist. He blinked at Steve for a moment, very softly stroking his wrist, absentmindedly. </p>
<p>“Was ... I wrong, to ask you to stay with me?” He asked, nervously, biting his lip. </p>
<p>“No, Buck,” Steve said, “We did this before. Just wasn’t sure if you would be comfortable with it now.”"</p>
            </blockquote>





	‘cause I kept tryin’ to remember you.

**Author's Note:**

> literally all of the fluff. i'm so sad that I can't see civil war until friday, so I wrote fluff to cope. no angst because my heart is sad enough as it is. 
> 
> i wrote stucky instead of doing homework. amazing. 
> 
> unbeta'd because this was just me being silly.
> 
> follow me on tumblr @sgt_bckybarnes

Bucky stretched, adjusting his hat and fidgeting nervously. He was standing in front of Steve’s window, trying to find the courage to enter his living room. It was fairly early in the morning, but Bucky couldn’t wait any longer. It had been a few months since the helicarrier and he’d gotten more of his memory back – he remembered a small number of things before the war, back in Brooklyn; he remembered the war a little more clearly, his surprise at Steve appearing a foot taller and a hundred pounds heavier; he remembered falling from the train and small flashes of the last seventy years, as awful as that time was. 

Bucky had decided a few days ago that he wanted to find Steve. He wanted to see him, speak to him. He only remembered flashes of his past life, but even through all of that the old Bucky was telling him how important Steve was, still is. Bucky inhaled sharply, reaching for the window and pushing it up, climbing into the room. He looked around. A few closed doors down the hallways to his left, a kitchen ahead. Bucky moved forward to the kitchen and slipped into one of the chairs at the small table, waiting. 

About an hour later Bucky heard some noise from one of the doors down the hall, after a moment Steve walked out – pajama pants low on his hips, tank top bunched up, just a little. Steve looked up and froze abruptly, looking at Bucky sitting at his table,

“Buck?” he asked, voice quiet and surprised, “What are y’doing here?” 

“Needed to see you,” Bucky replied roughly, flexing his metal hand against the wood of the table. 

Steve walked over to the counter, flipping the coffee maker on and grabbing a mug from a cabinet, before sitting in front of Bucky – just looking. 

“What d’you remember?” 

“I ... You. A little bit of the war, some of Brooklyn, but mostly you.”

Steve’s face was so open, so soft, “Oh.” 

Steve stood, got himself coffee and turned, asking Bucky if he wanted some. Bucky swallowed hard, nodding a little. Steve grabbed him a mug from the cupboard, pouring it and sitting it on the table. 

He spoke to Bucky for a few minutes, softly, offering him the shower. Bucky nodded, standing, walking down the hall to the bathroom. Once he had disappeared, Steve took his phone out of his pocket, hitting Sam on the contact list. 

“Hello?” Sam answered, confused, “Man, it’s early.”

“I have a problem.” 

When Bucky got out of the shower he spotted a pair of jeans and a blue t-shirt sitting, folded on the counter. He hadn’t heard Steve walk in. He tugged the clothes on, brushing his hair out of his face and walking into the kitchen.

Steve and another man were sitting at the kitchen table, talking quietly. 

“ – Sure? – Dangerous?” The other man murmured, leaning back and sighing. 

Steve’s eyes flickered up to Bucky, smiling softly, “Sam, this is Bucky.”

Sam turned, looking him up and down. Bucky shifted his weight uncomfortably, feeling strangely naked in jeans and a t-shirt. 

“Hey, man,” Sam said, nodding at him. 

Bucky nodded back, looking at Steve, eyes soft. 

Steve introduced them and Bucky offered the both of them a small, nervous smile. 

After a little while Sam left, giving Steve a look as he did so. They had moved to the living room while chatting and Bucky was curled in the corner of the sofa nervously fidgeting his hands. 

Steve walked over to the couch, sitting at the other end and glancing over at Bucky. 

Bucky looked back, hair falling into his face, “What?” 

Steve shook his head, “Missed ya, Buck.” 

Bucky sighed tiredly, running a hand through his hair, “Yeah, Stevie, missed ya, too.” 

“Did you?” Steve asked, tiredly.

“Yeah. ‘Specially recently. I think that they had to keep me on ice ‘cause I kept tryin’ to remember you.”

Steve bit his lip, looking down, before glancing back over at Bucky. He looked tired – his hair hanging long around his face, dark circles under his eyes. 

“Why don’t you sleep?” Steve asked, standing up, Bucky following, “You’ll have to use my room. I don’t actually have another bedroom.” 

Bucky looked at him, raising an eyebrow, “Not expectin’ any guests?”

Steve snorted with surprised laughter, shaking his head. 

Once in the room, Steve wandered over to the dresser and pulled out a pair of pajama pants, tossing them at Bucky. He changed his clothes, Steve looking away. 

“You sleep as long as you want,” he said, motioning to the bed and turning to leave the room.

“Steve –,” Bucky said, Steve stopping in the doorway and turning to face him, “Can you stay?” 

Steve looked at him, curiously, “Buck – ,” he started and Bucky interrupted, “Ya don’t have to.” 

Steve shook his head, “I can stay, if you’re sure,” he said, biting his lip. 

“Did I remember that wrong?”

Steve shook his head again, kicking his shoes off and moving over to the right side of the bed. He pulled the blankets back and he sat on the side of the bed, motioning for Bucky to lie down. 

After a few minutes, they were settled and the room was quiet other than the breathing. Neither of them were sleeping, but they were also quiet, unsure. 

It took several moments before Bucky murmured Steve’s name, quietly. 

Steve hummed in response and looked over at him. Bucky shifted onto his side, flesh hand reaching out to rest on Steve’s wrist. He blinked at Steve for a moment, very softly stroking his wrist, absentmindedly. 

“Was ... I wrong, to ask you to stay with me?” He asked, nervously, biting his lip. 

“No, Buck,” Steve said, “We did this before. Just wasn’t sure if you would be comfortable with it now.” 

“Feels right,” he admitted, “I didn’t want to be alone.” 

Steve hummed, smiling softly at Bucky. 

They fell asleep soon after, Bucky relaxing after his confession.

The next morning, Steve woke first and blinked in confusion. He was very warm and there was an arm thrown across his waist. He looked down and remembered the night before. Steve inhaled shakily, blinking away sudden tears as he realized that Bucky was in his house, in his bed. 

The man beside him shifted then, withdrawing his arm quickly and looking up at Steve in surprise.

“Sorry,” Bucky said quickly, voice rough with sleep, “Didn’t mean to.” 

Steve looked at him, blinking again, before giving him a timid, sad smile. Bucky looked confused and, maybe, just a bit stricken. 

He reached his hand back over, curling his fingers around Steve’s wrist again, tentative. When Steve just closed his eyes, relaxing, Bucky made a soft noise under his breath. He slid closer to Steve, just a bit, and tightened his grip on Steve’s wrist. 

“Is ... Are you sure this is okay?” Bucky asked, unsure. When Steve nods he relaxes, fingers still tight around Steve’s wrist. 

A moment later, Bucky blinks up at Steve and softly says, “Stevie?”

Steve looks at him, eyes curious and soft and sad, “Yeah, Buck?”

“I’m really glad I’m here.”

“Me too.”


End file.
